First Solo Exhibition and The Anatomy Of A Stroke [One Year Plus]

At The Zoo : Watching The Animals
At The Zoo : Watching The Animals

 

First up: I’ve been organizing my first solo photography exhibition. And I hadn’t quite realised, when supplying everything but the walls, everything can be quite a lot of work! I just about made it – hanging the ten images last night. Time to breathe. Hopefully you’ll all now be booking flights from the four corners of the world for this must see event. Ahem.

Anyhoo… If any of you good [local] folk should head this way, feel free to give me the heads up, and I’ll do my utmost to meet you there. Coffees* are on you! Uh, call it your entrance fee and having the sheer pleasure of my company. Think of me as your photographic pim… uh, escort.

* Oh, yeah, that’s the bonus. Rubicon is a lounge café and chocolatiers. So you can easily be distracted from both my company and images with even more delicious distractible culinary treats.

 

The Anatomy Of A Stroke [One Year Plus]

 

Remarkably… we were both clean shaven for the occasion!
Remarkably… we were both clean shaven for the occasion!

 

When I began the project documenting my father’s battle with his stroke, clearly I had no idea where fate and circumstance might lead us. In my opening public comments I essentially concluded my introduction of the documentary with “…and for what I ultimately truly hope will be an uplifting journey to recovery.” Even when I wrote those words, I wasn’t fully aware, having survived the initial dramatic stroke, how the odds were stacked against him.

Happily, for those who followed the unfolding story, you’ll know that my father was lucky to fall into the third of people having such an event who subsequently go on to make a good recovery.

Once again, thanks for all your support through this difficult period in my/our family’s life. I had mixed feelings about making this public, but I was genuinely overwhelmed by those who took the time to write and offer their support and prayers, etc.

And special thanks to John, Alison, Claudio, Tracie, Louise, Kyre, Chris, Sharon, Hameed, Alex, Robert, Dawn, Jen and Giuliana for taking the time to ask some really quite probing questions, and allowing this to have an ideal completion.

The full Q&A interview can now be read on The Anatomy Of A Stroke website.

 

The Anatomy Of A Stroke [Week 4]

“I’ve never been so pleased to see a ceiling,” he said.

Virtually the first words out of his mouth when my step-mum and I went in to see him after his operation late on Thursday evening.

After the relative high of leaving hospital and getting home for his birthday last week, this week was all about the build up to his carotid endarterectomy. And as the week drifted by, dad drifted a little further within himself; the risks and understandable fears of what was quickly galloping towards him looming large.

The morning of the operation began early, the hospital taxi duly arrived. My step-mum apparently offered to carry his bag. He politely declined, picked it up himself, strode off down the path, into the waiting car and away. My step-mum, slightly shocked, waved at the back of his head. He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t look back. It’s astonishing to think that could’ve been their last moment together.

Later he shrugged the moment off, “I don’t like goodbyes. Besides, I was being positive. I had every intention of coming back.” He’s an unusual character all right, my dad.

The scar and associated bruising, as you can see, make him look the victim of a particularly brutal werewolf attack. However, given the relative invasiveness and delicacy of the operation, his recovery, again, is quietly remarkable; also a wonderful testament to the skills of the surgeon, Mr Neary. [Who, the day before, was so calm before the operation, he sat on the edge of the desk talking to my parents swinging his legs back and forth like a small boy.] You’ve got a special place in the hearts of this family, Mr Neary. Now, pull your socks up, tuck your shirt in and go tidy your room!